


Christmas

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, hate!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3104414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac





	Christmas

R rated

Snape smiled nastily.

“It’s hard for you to deal with, isn’t it Black?”

“What do you mean?” snarled Sirius, glaring at him.

“I mean…” he left a short gap, then finished “the situation.” Another pause. Then he said “Potter.”

“What about Harry? What do you know about my godson?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and the smile became more twisted.

“You fucked his father. Now you’re fucking the man who’s fucking him. But you can’t fuck him, can you? And it hurts - oh, it hurts, doesn’t it, Black? You’d love to be in my position, but you’re not. All you can do is get it second hand.”

Sirius’s fists clenched and his teeth were almost bared.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no. I think not. No,” he said, more softly, “I think you won’t. Remember, Black, whatever you do to me, I’ll do to him. Make it good for me, and I’ll make it good for him. Make it bad, and Potter will know what that feels like, too.”

“If I kill you,” Sirius spat through gritted teeth, “you’ll not be in a position to do anything to anyone. A murderer they call me, and I’m not averse to becoming one. Believe me, it would give me the greatest pleasure to tear you apart. And I’d do it slowly, I’d make you die inch by inch.”

Snape laughed maliciously.

“Such a temper, Black. You always were so unrestrained; so uncouth. I wonder why I put up with you.”

Sirius strode forward, as though the last remnants of civilisation had been torn away, leaving only the ungoverned and ungovernable feelings behind. Before Severus could move, he had a hand at his throat, his face less than six inches away from his enemy’s. Sirius’s eyes met Snape’s: hot dark angry eyes facing black expressionless ones.

“Shut up. Shut up. One day, I swear, I’ll murder you. And believe me, I’ll have no regrets. Not one.” His face was twisted with anger. “You don’t deserve to live; you never have.”

Snape had stopped smiling. His face, always pale, was now the colour of sour milk. He couldn’t speak, nor could he reach for his wand; Sirius had made sure of that. Sirius’s grip relaxed. He still held Severus, but in a looser hold.

“But not yet,” Sirius went on. He had stopped shouting now, and the anger, though still there, was now controlled again. “No. You’re right about that. And you know why?” His voice was lower still, and he moved his mouth until it was by Snape’s ear. “I’ll tell you why. Because whatever you say, you’ll still put up with me screwing you any time I want. You’ll still bend over for me any time I ask. Won’t you, Sevvy? Won’t you?”

His breath was hot on Severus’s ear; he had moved closer still and Severus could feel the strength and hardness of him against his body.

“Won’t you do anything I tell you?” pressed Sirius, his hand moving from Snape’s throat to the back of his head, entwining itself in his hair; tugging, pulling at him.

Snape could not speak. His heart, usually so controlled, was beating faster than usual. He was taking shorter breaths; shorter, more hurried. He could feel himself falling for it again; falling for the incredible masculinity of the man. Never mind that he hated him; never mind that a minute ago he had been taunting him. Now all he wanted was to have that body closer, closer; to have Sirius take possession of him once again; to feel that incredible heat pulse through his body. His eyes flickered closed; his other senses were taking over. His head tilted back, exposing the milk white throat which still showed the red mark of Sirius’s fingers across it.

“Say it, Sevvy,” whispered that mocking, sexy, voice. “Tell me you want it.”

Severus could hardly breathe. Dimly, he knew he hated Sirius for doing this to him; hated that his own body betrayed him.

“Yes. Yes, for God’s SAKE!” he muttered desperately. “Please, Sirius….”

Sirius laughed softly, his mouth still by Snape’s ear. He flicked a tongue out, licking it; then took it between his teeth and tugged gently.

“Oh yes, you want it,” he mocked. “You’re begging for it.”

Sirius’s hands slid down Severus’s body, feeling the hardness of him, the desperation. Part of Snape’s bitterness, he knew, was because he couldn’t live without this; couldn’t live without these heated, desperate moments. He knew; because he felt that way too - torn between hatred and desire. They would meet, and thrust as many barbs as they could into each other; hurt each other beyond reason. But even then, as always, they knew how it would end; knew, however sanity felt, that the body would always betray them; always lead them to this.

“Oh yes,” murmured Sirius; and his voice was no longer mocking but thick with desire. “Yes…”

“Yes, Sirius,” responded his enemy; his lover. “Please…”

And as they slid to the floor, every rational thought was gone. Burned with desire they clung to each other, taking each other deeper and deeper with every thrust, overtaken with passion.

Yet later, as the christmas lights in the night outside dimmed, they would part. And they would hate again, neither forgiving the other for the mutual desire that dragged them together, against all odds.


End file.
